Vincent’s eyes opened slowly at the sound of our approach. He looked a little stoned, but otherwise, healthier than he had in the last few days. His complexion had color again, instead of sallow and pale as it had been. He gave me just a hint of a smile, and lifted his hand. I took it fast, relief making tears gather in my eyes even as it made me giddy.
“I’m fine,” he murmured. There wasn’t his usual heft and confidence in his tone, but his gaze never wavered from my face so I knew he was telling the truth. Not that he was ever anything but direct. “It was only a little myocardial infarction.”
I sputtered out a wet laugh and sat on the edge of his bed. “That’s not funny.”
His fingers curled into mine, squeezing albeit not very tightly. “Made you laugh, though. Can you grab that cup?”
I saw what he was indicating with his slight head tip, and untangled our hands so I could lift the cup and straw to his mouth. He took a few small pulls, then leaned back against his pillow. I set the cup on the side table again, and instantly took back his hand. I needed the connection.
Vincent looked okay, but he still had an IV in his hand, oxygen in his nose, and there were leads and wires attached to his chest. The monitor beside him was measuring his heart rate, which looked a little high, as well as his breathing. I knew the clip on his finger was reading the oxygen in his blood, and I also knew that a reading of 95 was pretty good. I’d visited friends in the hospital before, so I understood a little of what everything was for.
“What happened?” I queried.
Vincent swallowed a few times, then took a deep breath. “Long story short, I have an irregular heartbeat and that, combined with an exorbitant amount of stress and long hours, caused a very mild heart attack. I should make a full recovery and get to go home tomorrow or the next day.”
I stared at him wide-eyed. “That’s it? Just ‘here’s a Band-Aid, go on home’?”
“Shhh, honey.” Vincent’s rubbed his thumb back and forth across my knuckles, like I was the one needing soothing. “You’re oversimplifying. I’ll need to take medication, but it’ll be fine.”
I scowled at being shushed. I also knew it couldn’t be as easy as taking a pill. And given what he’d said, I knew what else he needed to do. “And reduce your stress.”
Vincent snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“Vincent, you have to—”
“Will you take care of Valentine for me until I get out of here?”
Like that was even a question. “I’ll take care of him after that, too. I’ll take care of you both.” I tried to sound firm. He was trying to distract me from the matter at hand and I wasn’t going to let him.
“Dan, I don’t need—”
It was my turn to interrupt. “No, you’re staying with me anyway. And you need some time to recuperate. I don’t care how ‘mild’ it was. How can a heart attack be mild anyway? Your heart stopped beating, that’s fucking serious no matter what. So don’t fight with me. Just…don’t okay?”
I was breathing heavily, my diatribe getting my emotions up. God, couldn’t he just take the help I was offering and spend a few days getting better? I knew he liked being busy, thrived on it really, but this was not something to mess around with. Couldn’t he see that?
“You done?” he asked, his tone amused. I glanced at him and saw the affection lurking in his eyes. I nodded. “I have a house in Oak Harbor. I was just going to go there.”
“After,” I said, my voice quiet but strong. “Once we finish filming this episode, then we’ll be on hiatus and I can go with you.” I paused, doubt suddenly creeping in. He hadn’t invited me along and maybe he didn’t even want me there. “If you want me to, that is. Anyway. Until then, you’ll stay at my house.” That much I wasn’t willing to budge on.
He squinted at me, like he was trying to figure something out. “Since when are you so pushy?”
“It’s not about…” I shook my head. I didn’t know how to explain, and after a few second’s trying to come up with the right words, I just went with my heart. “Please, just let me take care of you, okay?”
Vincent was quiet for a long moment, his fingers playing with mine. He kept running his thumb over the scar on my knuckle. I was seven when I’d gotten it falling off my bike. My mother had yelled at me for days because I’d cut my cheek, too. Fortunately, according to her, it hadn’t scarred. Vincent had been so upset with her when I’d told him the story, even though it had happened nearly thirty years ago, and his anger did no good. He didn’t like that she’d treated me that way. At the time, though, I hadn’t known any different. But I’d still felt a warm affection in the pit of my belly that he’d get so upset on my behalf, even after all this time had passed.
Eventually, he drew in a small breath, and his gaze met mine when he asked, “This is more to you than just friends fucking sometimes, isn’t it?”
Shit. I hadn’t wanted it to happen like this, if it even happened at all. I’d been so scared, and then relieved and then angry, that I hadn’t even thought to censor my words. I’d just let him see everything that I was feeling. All those things that I swore I wasn’t going to let him know, he now did. There was no taking it back. I couldn’t say I was just kidding. I tried not to panic, looked him in the eye, and nodded.
“Good,” he whispered, his hand squeezing mine, like he didn’t want to let go. His eyes closed, and he blew out a soft breath. I did not miss the relief in his tone as he repeated himself. “Good.”
His breathing evened out a moment later, but his fingers stayed tight in mine. I felt my body relax, too. Things would work out now.
Chapter 9
“He’s the chief, Murph. I don’t know…who…what…wait, let me just…crap!” I hung my head. “What’s the line?”
Lucas chortled, staring at me. “You just can’t get it right, can you?”
I showed Lucas my middle finger, even as I reached for the script one of the PAs held out. I quickly scanned the words, refreshing my memory.
“Get it together, you guys,” Avery Lang said with an exasperated sigh. “You had this before, Jacobs. What the fuck?”
I did my best to get the scowl off my face. Lang wasn’t my favorite director to begin with, but I was pretty sure I hated him more now because he’d been called in to take Vincent’s place.
The man had insisted he could come back to work right away, that he wasn’t going to let this keep him down. But they couldn’t get his blood pressure to stabilize and he’d had to stay in the hospital for three days, so the show’s producers hadn’t had much choice. A replacement had to be called in.
Even though Vincent had been home for three days, I still hated leaving him by himself. It made me anxious, and I couldn’t wait to get done filming every day. And worrying about him had my concentration completely shot. It also made my temper short, and dealing with Avery Lang all the more irritating. I needed to suck it up, though, so I gave Lang a smile and a wave.
“Sorry, I got this. I do.”
Lang squinted at me, then waved. “Fine. Go back to ‘he’s the chief’ and let’s goddamn get it right this time.”
Hidden by the desk, Lucas mimed jacking off to let me know what he thought of Avery Lang, and I let out a tiny laugh that I quickly checked. I straightened up, stretched my neck and shoulders, then leaned over again. Lang called for quiet on the set, and Lucas rolled his eyes before he got his game face on.
“Action!”
I took a deep breath. “He’s the chief, Murph. I don’t know how you think you’re gonna get this past him. He’s gonna find out.”
Lucas gave a serious nod. “After, probably. Yes.” He leaned forward, lowering his head along with his voice, making it clear we were in a conspiracy. “Look, Frank. I’m not going to allow him to stop me from doing my job. Protocol be damned. I will catch the bastard that’s doing this by any means necessary. No matter what ‘the chief’ wants.”
“He’s going to have your badge for this. You’ve gone against
him one too many times,” I said earnestly. Frank Geary did not want his partner to get fired.
“If they take it, then they do,” Lucas said softly, his tone full of resolve. He leaned forward and into my space. “I took an oath to serve and protect. And I’m not going to turn my back on that. You can stand with me or get out of my way. What’s it going to be, Frankie?”
I waited a beat, then two. Made a show of looking around. Then I gave an explosive sigh, and focused my gaze solely on Lucas. There was only one way Frank could respond to his partner’s request. “What do you need me to do?”
Lucas’s smile was just wicked.
“Cut!” Avery’s voice rang out. “Now was that so goddamn fucking hard?”
Lucas’s growl was almost imperceptible, and I made a calming motion so he’d relax. Really, the attitude was uncalled for. But that was the kind of guy Lang was. He acted superior, though he wasn’t, and he liked that his word was law. He wasn’t easy to get along with, and I was pretty sure the only reason the producers put up with him was because he made stunning TV.
“Let’s reset with the new camera angles, and do it again.” Lang glanced at me, and his sneer was unmistakable. I countered it with my sweetest smile. I even batted my eyelashes. Lang got even surlier as he added, “One take. Let’s finish this goddamn scene.”
“I have half a mind to pretend I’m religious just to get that fucker to shut the fuck up,” Lucas murmured as he stood and worked the kinks out of his back. I had to laugh, and gave him a light shove on the shoulder.
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged, and moved back into start position while the cameras were adjusted around us. “Let’s just get this done. Then we won’t have to worry about it for a while.”
“And you can get out of here?” Lucas asked with a knowing grin.
“God, yes,” I answered fervently. I needed to go home to Vincent.
“Careful now. You’re offending my religion.” Lucas’s expression was so serious, that if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he meant it. Instead, I gave him the finger again, to which he returned fire with both hands.
Lang yelled for us to knock it off, and scowled even harder. If he wasn’t careful, that look would become permanent. But I didn’t want to piss him off any further, so I reined in my behavior. Lang was the kind of asshole that would make us reshoot again and again as punishment, and I so did not need that.
It took another hour and three different takes, but finally we had enough footage to appease the mighty Avery Lang. He watched the playback in silence, all of us waiting for his pronouncement. I was certain he dragged it out on purpose. Finally, he sat up straight and took off the headphones.
“All right,” he shouted, his tone full of exasperation. “That’s a wrap. Episode twenty-two is in the can!”
The cheer went up and the announcement went out. Normally, this was one of my favorite things about filming this show. We were a close-knit group, and we got along, cast and crew alike. The celebration that followed another successful shooting season was always a fantastic time. But I was more focused on Vincent than I was on anything else. I barely cared about the party at all, and the little bit of thought I gave toward it was only because it was the season finale wrap party.
“Hey,” Lucas said, catching up with me on the edge of the set. I hadn’t realized I started moving, and I stopped and gave him a sheepish grin. He smiled back. “Will we see you tomorrow?”
The end-of-season wrap party was always a bigger deal, and the PAs had been planning it all week. We took over the banquet room at DeLorio’s, instead of just one of the larger back rooms, and there was a buffet instead of everyone choosing and paying for their own meals. I loved it, and I’d never missed one.
I shook my head, then nodded, then shrugged. Lucas blinked, then laughed, shaking his own head. He took hold of my elbow and steered me off set and toward the dressing rooms. “So, what’s it going to be?”
“I don’t know.” I let out a sigh. “It depends on if Vincent is up to it.”
Lucas didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he paused when we reached my dressing room. “You’re serious about him.”
It wasn’t a question. I answered it anyway. “I am. I don’t know how serious he is about me yet. And I don’t know what’s going to happen. But”—I shrugged, and let the smile spread on my face—”I care about him. I want to take care of him. And right now he needs it so…It is what it is.”
“Yeah, okay,” Lucas said, a contemplative look crossing his face. I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t get a chance to ask. He gave me a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes and said, “Still, try to make it tomorrow. Even if you just put in an appearance, okay?”
I nodded, not willing to make any promises I couldn’t keep. It really did depend solely on Vincent.
* * * *
Vincent didn’t feel up to partying himself but he insisted that I go. And because he all but commanded it, I went. I hugged and kissed everyone, stood around and talked, and the moment it looked like I wouldn’t be missed, I slipped out and went home.
Valentine greeted me at my door with a lick and a bark, and I let him outside to do his business and then back in before locking up the house. Since Vincent wasn’t downstairs, I knew he must already be in bed. But that didn’t mean he was sleeping. I took the stairs in twos, anxious to see him.
He was lounging in bed with a script on his chest and his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He pulled them off and gave me a bright smile when he saw me, but that instantly morphed into a frown.
“What are you doing home so early?”
Hearing him call my house “home” warmed the pit of my stomach, but I wasn’t about to let on. Despite his hospital bed confession that made it sound like he wanted more from our relationship, he hadn’t mentioned it again. I was just glad he was relaxing and taking it easy, allowing me to take care of him, so I didn’t want to rock the boat by bringing it up.
“I was missing you,” I said, which was the truth.
Vincent scowled. “Yes. And you were worried about me being alone in the house like I’m a child who can’t be left alone.”
I laughed softly because his petulance was really sort of endearing. “I was worried the boredom would get to you and you’d get it into your head to rearrange the furniture or take Valentine on a ten-mile run. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“I am,” he groused. “I’ve been a lazy lump for days. The most exercise I’ve gotten has been walking Valentine around the block and walking up and down the stairs.”
“And that’s how it should be,” I said gently as I started to strip. I tossed my shirt in the hamper, then gestured to the script in his hands. It was thick, which made me think it was for a movie, and he’d read only a couple of pages. I took it from him and laid it on the bedside table. “You aren’t supposed to be working either.”
He snorted out a laugh, but lifted for my kiss. “That’s hardly work,” he said, his lips against mine. “That’s just reading.”
But it wasn’t. I knew better than that. It was a script someone was asking him to consider, or consult on. And that meant work, however not strenuous it was. He’d promised me, and the doctors, that he would give it a full two weeks before he slowly started working again. It had been four days. I kissed him again, and reached for the remote.
“How about a movie while snuggling in bed instead?”
“I don’t snuggle,” he grumbled, even as he fluffed up the pillows behind him, tucking them in and making a comfortable nest he could lean against. I wisely chose not to point that out, just finished stripping out of my clothes and getting into sleep shorts. I turned on the TV, then flicked to the movie channel as I got into bed. I handed Vincent the remote, then cuddled against him.
He immediately wrapped an arm around me and chose an action film with lots of explosions. It always cracked me up that he liked things that went “boom” when it was not what he chose
to direct himself. He kept the volume turned low as the opening sequence began.
“I called my housekeeper. She’ll be opening up the house tomorrow morning. I thought we might leave after lunch, drop my rental off at the airport, then head up there.” He said this casually, one hand rubbing up and down my arm.
My heart started to pound. He hadn’t said anything else about going to his house in Oak Harbor, and since I was all about not pushing right now, I hadn’t brought it up either. But I was glad that, not only did he still want to go, but he wanted me along.
“Or,” I said, kissing his neck, “we could arrange for them to pick up their own damn car, and we could leave right from here whenever we’re ready without having to worry about facing that traffic or the horrific lines.”
Vincent slid his fingers into my hair. “They’ll charge for that.”
I hid my smirk against his chest. “I’ll pay for it if you can’t afford it.”
“Ass,” he muttered, pulling my hair just hard enough to sting. But I heard the affection in his voice and so I just grinned. He used my hair to tilt back my head, and he kissed my forehead. “Yeah, we can do that.”
“Good,” I said with a nod. I settled against him. And then added, more quietly, “I can’t wait to see your home.”
Something exploded on the screen, and even with the volume turned low it was loud, so I almost missed his murmured, “I can’t wait to show it to you.”
* * * *
We pulled into his driveway at just after three in the afternoon. Valentine was eager to be let out of my little hatchback, and Vincent took care of that while I just stared at the grandeur. The house was big and gorgeous, bracketed by trees, and I knew the ocean was thirty feet away. It took my breath away, and I couldn’t imagine how he could have been happy in my tiny little duplex when he had this to come home to.
Vincent held out a hand. “Let me show you around.”
I took his hand and let him lead me inside. The entryway led to a huge open space, living and dining area all in one. The ceiling was at least twelve feet high, and the back wall was made of windows to showcase the expanse of lawn and ocean farther down. I could see the hint of a pebbly beach beyond the grass. The kitchen was to the left, separated from the rest of the space only by a long counter that doubled as a bar.
Something Like Peace Page 6
